 | Coriolanus |  |
23
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Coriolanus, Tullus, Volusius, Titus, with a Croud of Volscian Officers. Acclamations behind the Scenes.Coriolanus.
No more—I merit not this lavish Praise.
True, we have driven the Roman Legions back,
Defeated, and disgrac'd—But what is this?
Nothing, ye Volsci, nothing yet is done.
We but begin the wonderous Leaf of Story,
That marks the Roman Doom. At length it dawns,
The destin'd Hour, that eases of their Fears
The Nations round, and sets Hesperia free.
Come on, my brave Companions of the War!
Come, let us finish at one mighty Stroke,
This Toil of labouring Fate—We will, or perish!
While, noble Tullus, you protect the Camp,
I, with my Troops, all Men of chosen Valour,
And well-approv'd to-day, will storm the City.
Titus.
Beneath thy animating Conduct, Marcius,
What can the Volscian Valour not perform.
Thy very Sight and Voice subdues the Romans.
When, lifting up your Helm, you shew'd your Face,
That like a Comet glar'd Destruction on them,
I saw their bravest Veterans fly before thee.
Their ancient Spirit has with thee forsook them,
And Ruin hangs o'er yon devoted Walls.
[Enter an Officer, who addresses himself to Coriolanus.
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My Lord, a Herald is arriv'd from Rome,
To say, a Deputation from the Senate,
Attended by the Ministers of Heaven,
A venerable Train of Priests and Flamens,
Is on the Way, address'd to you.
Coriolanus.
To me!
What can this Message mean!—Stand to your Arms,
Ye Volscian Troops; and let these Romans pass
Betwixt the lowring Frown of double Files.
What! do they think me such a milky Boy,
To pay my Vengeance with a few soft Words.
Come, fellow Soldiers, Tullus, come, and see,
If I betray the Honours you have done me.
[Goes out with a Train of Volscian Officers.
SCENE II.
Tullus, Volusius, who remain.Volusius,
after some Silence,
Are we not, Tullus, failing in our Duty
Not to attend our General?
Tullus.
How! What saidst thou?
Volusius.
Methought, my Lord, his parting Orders were,
We should attend the Triumph now preparing
O'er all his Foes at once—Romans and Volsci!
Come, we shall give Offence.
Tullus.
Of this no more.
I pray thee spare thy bitter Irony.
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Shall I then speak without Disguise?
Tullus.
Speak out:
With all the honest Bluntness of a Friend.
Think'st thou I fear the Truth?
Volusius.
Then, Tullus, know,
Thou art no more the General of the Volsci.
Thou hast, by this thy generous Weakness, sunk
Thyself into a private Man of Antium.
Yes, thou hast taken from thy laurel'd Brow
The well-earn'd Trophies of thy Toils and Perils,
Thy springing Hopes, the fairest ever budded,
And heap'd them on a Man too proud before.
Tullus.
He bears it high.
Volusius.
Death, and Perdition! high!
With uncontroul'd Command!—You see, already,
He will not be encumber'd with the Fetters
Of our Advice. He speaks his Sovereign Will;
On every Hand he issues out his Orders,
As to his natural Slaves.—For you, my Lord,
He has, I think, confin'd you to your Camp,
There in inglorious Indolence to languish;
While he, beneath your blasted Eye, shall reap
The Harvest of your Honour.
Tullus.
No, Volusius,
Whatever Honour shall by him be gain'd
Reverts to me, from whose superior Bounty
He drew the Means of all his glorious Deeds.
This mighty Chief, this Conqueror of Rome
Is but my Creature.—
Volusius.
Wretched Self-Delusion;
He and the Volscians know he is thy Master.
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Could my abhorrent Soul endure the Thought
Of stooping to a Roman Chief, I here
Would leave thee in thy solitary Camp,
And go where Glory calls.
Tullus.
Indeed, Volusius,
I did expect more equal Treatment from him.
But what of that?—The generous Pride of Virtue
Disdains to weigh too nicely the Returns
Her Bounty meets with—Like the liberal Gods,
From her own gracious Nature she bestows,
Nor stoops to ask Reward—Yet must I own,
I thought he would not have so soon forgot
What he so lately was, and what I am.
Volusius.
Gods! knew ye not his Character before?
Did you not know his Genius was to yours
Averse, as are Antipathies in Nature?
High, over-weening, tyranously Proud,
And only fit to hold Command o'er Slaves?
Hence, as repugnant to that equal Life,
Which is the quickening Soul of all Republicks,
The Roman People cast him forth; and we,
Shall we receive the Bane of their Repose,
Into our Breast? Are we less free than they?
Or shall we be more patient of a Tyrant?
Tullus.
All this I knew. But while his Imperfections
Are thy glad Theme, thou hast forgot his Virtues.
Volusius.
I leave that Subject to the smooth Galesus,
And these his Volscian Flatterers—His Virtues!
Trust me there is no Insolence that treads
So high as that which rears itself on Virtue.
Tullus.
Well, be it so—I meant, that even his Vices
Should, on this great Occasion, serve the Volsci.
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Confusion! there it is! there lurks the Sting
Of our Dishonour! while this Marcius leads
The Roman Armies, ours are driven before him.
Behold, he changes Sides; when with him changes
The Fortune of the War. Strait they grow Volsci
And we victorious Romans—Such, no doubt,
Such is his secret Boast—Ay, this vile Brand,
Success itself will fix for ever on us;
And, Tullus, thou, 'tis thou must answer for it.
Tullus,
aside.
His Words are Daggers to my Heart; I feel
Their Truth, but am asham'd to own my Folly.
Volusius.
O Shame! O Infamy! the Thought consumes me,
It scalds my Eyes with Tears, to see a Roman
Borne on our Shoulders to immortal Fame:
Just in the happy Moment that decided
The long Dispute of Ages, that for which
Our generous Ancestors had toil'd and bled,
To see him then step in and steal our Glory!
O that we first had perish'd all! A People,
Who cannot find in their own proper Force
Their own Protection, are not worth the saving!
Tullus
It must have Way! I will no more suppress it—
Know, then, my rough old Friend, no less than thee
His Conduct hurts me, and upbraids my Folly.
I wake as from a Dream. What Demon mov'd me?
What doating Generosity? his Woes,
Was it his Woes! to see the brave reduc'd
To trust his mortal Foe? perhaps, a little
That work'd within my Bosom—But, Volusius,
That was not all—I will to thee confess
The Weakness of my Heart—Yes, it was Pride,
The dazzling Pride to see my Rival-Warriour
The great Coriolanus, bend his Soul,
His haughty Soul, to sue for my Protection.
Protection said I? were it that alone,
I had been base to have refus'd him that,
To have refus'd him aught a gallant Foe
Owes to a gallant Foe.—But to exalt him
To the same Level, nay above myself;
To yield him the Command of half my Troops,
The choicest acting Half—That, that was Madness!
Was weak, was mean, unworthy of a Man!—
His Conduct hurts me, and upbraids my Folly.
I wake as from a Dream. What Demon mov'd me?
What doating Generosity? his Woes,
Was it his Woes! to see the brave reduc'd
To trust his mortal Foe? perhaps, a little
That work'd within my Bosom—But, Volusius,
That was not all—I will to thee confess
The Weakness of my Heart—Yes, it was Pride,
The dazzling Pride to see my Rival-Warriour
The great Coriolanus, bend his Soul,
His haughty Soul, to sue for my Protection.
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I had been base to have refus'd him that,
To have refus'd him aught a gallant Foe
Owes to a gallant Foe.—But to exalt him
To the same Level, nay above myself;
To yield him the Command of half my Troops,
The choicest acting Half—That, that was Madness!
Was weak, was mean, unworthy of a Man!—
Volusius.
I scorn to flatter thee—It was indeed.
Tullus.
Curse on the Slave, Galesus! soothing, he
Seiz'd the fond Moment of Infatuation,
And clinch'd the Chains my generous Folly forg'd.
How shall I from this Labyrinth escape?
Must it then be! what cruel Genius dooms me,
In War or Peace to creep beneath his Fortune?
Volusius.
That Genius is thyself. If thou canst bear
The very Thought of stooping to this Roman,
Thou from that Moment art his Vassal, Tullus;
By that thou dost acknowledge, Parent Nature
Has form'd him thy Superior. But if fix'd
Upon the Base of manly Resolution,
Thou say'st—I will be free! I will command!
I and my Country! then—O never doubt it—
We shall find Means to crush this vain Intruder;
Even I myself—this Hand—
Nay, hear me, Tullus,
'Tis not yet come to that, that last Resource.
I do not say we should employ the Dagger,
While other, better Means are in our Power.
Tullus.
No, my Volusius, Fortune will not drive us,
Or I am much deceiv'd, to that Extreme:
We shall not want the strongest fairest Plea,
To give a solemn Sanction to his Fate.
He will betray himself. Whate'er his Rage
Of Passion talks, a Weakness for his Country
Sticks in his Soul, and he is still a Roman.
Soon shall we see him tempted to the Brink
Of this sure Precipice—Then down, at once,
Without Remorse, we hurl him to Perdition!—
Or I am much deceiv'd, to that Extreme:
We shall not want the strongest fairest Plea,
To give a solemn Sanction to his Fate.
He will betray himself. Whate'er his Rage
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Sticks in his Soul, and he is still a Roman.
Soon shall we see him tempted to the Brink
Of this sure Precipice—Then down, at once,
Without Remorse, we hurl him to Perdition!—
But hark! the Trumpet calls us to a Scene
I should detest, if not from Hope we thence
May gather Matter to mature our Purpose.
I should detest, if not from Hope we thence
May gather Matter to mature our Purpose.
SCENE III.
The back Scene opens, and discovers Coriolanus sitting on his Tribunal, attended by his Lictors, and a Croud of Volscian Officers. Files of Troops drawn up on either Hand. In the Depth of the Scene appear the Deputies from the Roman Senate, M. Minucius, Posthumus Cominius, Sp. Lartius, P. Pinnarius, and Q. Sulpitius, all Consular Senators, who had been his most zealous Friends. And behind them march the Priests, the Sacrificers, the Augurs, and the Guardians of the sacred Things, drest in their Ceremonial Habits. These advance slowly, betwixt the Files of Soldiers, under Arms. As Tullus enters, Coriolanus rising salutes him.Coriolanus.
Here, noble Tullus, sit, and judge my Conduct;
Nor spare to check me if I act amiss.
Tullus.
Marcius, the Volscian Fate is in thy Hands.
[Coriolanus is seated again, and Tullus places himself upon a Tribunal on his Left Hand. Mean time the Roman Deputies advance up to Coriolanus and salute him, which he returns.
Coriolanus.
What, Romans, from the Generals of the Volsci
Is your Demand?
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O Coriolanus, Rome,
Nurse of thy tender Years, thy Parent-City,
Her Senators, her People, Priests, and Augurs,
Her every Order and Degree, by us,
Thy ever-zealous, still-unshaken Friends,
Sue in the most pathetic Terms for Peace.
And if in This, constrain'd, We from our Maxim,
Never to ask but give it, must depart;
It is some Consolation, in the State
To which thou hast by thy superior Valour
Reduc'd us, that we ask it from a Roman.
Coriolanus.
I was a Roman once, and thought the Name
Was not dishonour'd by me; but it pleas'd
Your Lords, the Mob of Rome, to take it from me;
Nor will I now receive it back again.
Milucius.
The Name thou mayst reject, but canst not throw
The Duties from thee which that Name imports;
Indissoluble Duties, bound upon thee
By the strong Hand of Nature, and confirm'd
By the dread Sanction of all-ruling Jove.
Then hear thy Country's supplicating Voice;
By all those Duties I conjure thee hear us.
Coriolanus.
Well—I will hear thee; speak, declare thy Message.
Milucius.
Give Peace, give healing Peace, to two brave Nations,
Fatigu'd with War, and sick of cruel Deeds!
To carry on Destruction's easy Trade,
Afflict Mankind, and scourge the World with War,
Is what each wicked, each ambitious Man,
Who lets his furious Passions loose, may do:
But in the flattering Torrent of Success,
To check his Rage, and drop th'avenging Sword,
When a repenting People ask it of him,
That is the genuine Bounty of a God.
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Which, injur'd as you are, you needs must feel,
But never ought to carry into Action,
Against your sacred Country; whence you drew
Your Life, your Virtues, every mortal Good,
That very Valour you employ against her.
Stop, Coriolalus, ere, beyond Retreat,
You plunge yourself in Crimes. To the fierce Joy
Of Vengeance push'd to barbarous Excess,
Repentance will succeed, and sickning Horror.
Consider too the slippery State of Fortune.
The Gods take Pleasure oft, when haughty Mortals
On their own Pride erect a mighty Fabrick,
By slightest means, to lay their towering Schemes
Low in the Dust, and teach them they are nothing.
Return, thou virtuous Roman! to the Bosom
Of thy imploring Country. Lo! her Arms
She fondly spreads to take thee back again,
And by redoubled Love efface her Harshness.
Return, and crown thee with the noblest Wreathe,
Which Glory can bestow—the Palm of Mercy!
Coriolanus.
Marcus Minucius, and ye other Romans,
Respected Senators, and holy Flamens,
Attend, and take to your Demand this Answer:
Respected Senators, and holy Flamens,
Attend, and take to your Demand this Answer:
Why court you me, the Servant of the Volsci?
It is to them that you must bend for Peace,
Which on these only Terms they will accord you.
“Restore the conquer'd Lands, your former Wars
“Have ravish'd from them: from their Towns and Cities,
“Won by your Arms, withdraw your Colonies;
“And to the full Immunities of Rome
“Frankly admit them, as you have the Latines.”
Then, Romans, you have Peace, and not till then!
If these are Terms which suit not your Ambition,
They suit the State to which the Volscian Arms
Have now reduc'd you—We have learn'd from Rome
To use our Fortune, and command the Vanquish'd.
It is to them that you must bend for Peace,
Which on these only Terms they will accord you.
“Restore the conquer'd Lands, your former Wars
“Have ravish'd from them: from their Towns and Cities,
“Won by your Arms, withdraw your Colonies;
“And to the full Immunities of Rome
“Frankly admit them, as you have the Latines.”
Then, Romans, you have Peace, and not till then!
If these are Terms which suit not your Ambition,
They suit the State to which the Volscian Arms
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To use our Fortune, and command the Vanquish'd.
Tullus,
(aside.)
Death to my Hopes! I'm now his Slave for ever.
Coriolanus,
addressing himself to the Volsci.
This, my illustrious Patrons and Protectors,
Volsci, to you I ow'd. Permit me now
To do myself and injur'd Honour Justice.
[Turning again to the Romans.
As to the Liberty you idly vaunt
To give me of returning to your City,
'Tis what I hold unworthy of Acceptance.
Can I return into th'ungrateful Bosom
Of a distracted State, where, to the Rage
Of a vile senseless Populace, the Laws
Are by your shameful Weakness given a Prey?
Who are the Men that hold the Sway among you?
And whom have you expell'd, as even unworthy
To live within the Cincture of your Walls!—
O the wild Thought breaks in and troubles Reason!—
With what, ye Romans, can the sowerest Censor,
The most envenom'd Malice, justly charge me?
Did I e'er break your Laws? Nay, did I e'er
Do aught that could disturb the sacred Order,
The Peace and social Harmony of Life;
Or taint your ancient Sanctity of Manners?
What was my Crime? I could not bear to see
Your Dignity debas'd: to see the Rabble,
Tread on the reverend grey Authority
Of Senatorial Wisdom: Yes, for you,
In your Defence I did enrage this Monster;
And yet you basely left me to its Fury.
Then talk no more of Services and Friendship:
A Friend, who can, and does not shield, betrays me.
Or if the Power was wanting, then your Senate
Is sunk into Servility, and Bondage,
Nor should a Freeman deign to sit among you.
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The Wisest are sometimes compell'd to yield
To popular Storms: Yet I defend not, Marcius,
Our timid Conduct; we have felt our Error,
And now invite thee back to aid the Senate,
With thy heroic Spirit to restrain
The giddy Rage of Faction, and to hold
The Reins of Government more firm hereafter.
To popular Storms: Yet I defend not, Marcius,
Our timid Conduct; we have felt our Error,
And now invite thee back to aid the Senate,
With thy heroic Spirit to restrain
The giddy Rage of Faction, and to hold
The Reins of Government more firm hereafter.
As to th'Appeal which thou hast nobly made
In Vindication of thy spotless Fame,
With Pleasure we confirm it, and bear Witness
To all thy public and thy private Virtues:
But let us also beg thee not to stain
The Brightness of that Glory by a Crime,
Which, unrepented, would disgrace them all,
A dire rebellious War against thy Country.
In Vindication of thy spotless Fame,
With Pleasure we confirm it, and bear Witness
To all thy public and thy private Virtues:
But let us also beg thee not to stain
The Brightness of that Glory by a Crime,
Which, unrepented, would disgrace them all,
A dire rebellious War against thy Country.
Coriolanus.
Absurd! What can you mean? To call a People,
Who with the last Indignity have us'd me,
To call my Foes my Country! No, Minucius,
It is the generous Nation of the Volsci,
These brave, these virtuous Men, you see around me,
Who, when I wander'd a poor helpless Exile,
Took Pity of my Injuries and Woes;
Forgot the former Mischiefs of my Sword;
Heap'd on me Kindness, Honours, Dignities;
Fear'd not to trust me with this high Command,
And plac'd me here the Guardian of their Cause:—
Be Witness, Jove!—It is alone their Nation
I henceforth will acknowledge for my Country!
Let this suffice—You have my Answer, Romans.
Cominius.
This Answer, Coriolanus, is the Dictate
More of thy Pride than Magnanimity:
'Tis thy Revenge that gives it, not thy Virtue.
Art thou above the Gods? who joy to show'r
Their doubled Goodness on repenting Mortals?
But think not I intend, by This, to urge
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That were a Weakness ill becoming Romans.
Yet I must tell thee, it would better suit
A fierce despotic-Chief of barbarous Slaves,
Than the calm Dignity of one who sits
In the grave Senate of a free Republic,
To talk so high, and as it were to thrust
Plebeians from the native Rights of Man.—
Coriolanus.
Ha! dost thou come the People's Advocate
To Me, Cominius! Com'st thou to insult me!
Cominius.
Nay, hear me, Marcius:—These grey Hairs impower me
To set thee right before this great Assembly:
And there was once a Time, thou wouldst have heard
Thy General with more Deference and Patience.—
I tell thee then, whoe'er amidst the Sons
Of Reason, Valour, Liberty, and Virtue,
Displays distinguish'd Merit, is a Noble
Of Nature's own creating. Such have risen
Sprung from the Dust, or where had been our Honours?
And such in radiant Bands will rise again,
In yon immortal City, that, when most
Deprest by Fate, and near apparent Ruin,
Returns, as with an Energy divine,
On her astonish'd Foes, and shakes them from her—
Your Pardon, Volsci—But This, Coriolanus,
Is what I had to say.
Coriolanus.
And I have heard it—
[Rising from his Tribunal; and the Priests advancing to address him, he prevents them.
For you, ye awful Ministers of Heaven,
Let me not hear your holy Lips profan'd
By urging what my Duty must refuse.
I bow in Adoration to the Gods;
I venerate their Servants. But there is,
There is a Power, their chief, their darling Care,
The Guardian of Mankind, which to betray
Were violating all—And that is Justice.
[Rising from his Tribunal; and the Priests advancing to address him, he prevents them.
For you, ye awful Ministers of Heaven,
Let me not hear your holy Lips profan'd
By urging what my Duty must refuse.
I bow in Adoration to the Gods;
35
There is a Power, their chief, their darling Care,
The Guardian of Mankind, which to betray
Were violating all—And that is Justice.
So far my public Character demands;
So far my Honour.—Now, what should forbid
The Man, and Friend, to be indulg'd a little?
So far my Honour.—Now, what should forbid
The Man, and Friend, to be indulg'd a little?
Permit me to embrace thee, good Minucius;
Thee, Lartius; you, Pinnarius and Sulpicius:
But chiefly thee, Cominius, who first rais'd me
To Deeds of Arms; who from thy Consular Brow
Took thy own Crown, and with it circled mine.
Tho nought can shake my Purpose, yet I wish
That Rome had sent me others on this Errand.
I thank you for your Friendship. The Protection,
Which you have given to those, whom once I call'd
By tender Names, I would not now remember.
How shall I—say—return your generous Goodness?
O there is nothing you, as Friends, can ask,
My grateful Heart will not with Pleasure grant you.
Thee, Lartius; you, Pinnarius and Sulpicius:
But chiefly thee, Cominius, who first rais'd me
To Deeds of Arms; who from thy Consular Brow
Took thy own Crown, and with it circled mine.
Tho nought can shake my Purpose, yet I wish
That Rome had sent me others on this Errand.
I thank you for your Friendship. The Protection,
Which you have given to those, whom once I call'd
By tender Names, I would not now remember.
How shall I—say—return your generous Goodness?
O there is nothing you, as Friends, can ask,
My grateful Heart will not with Pleasure grant you.
Cominius.
We thank thee, Coriolanus—But a Roman
Disdains that Favour you refuse his Country.
Coriolanus.
[To the Volscian Officers.
See that they be, with due Regard and Safety,
Conducted back.
[To the Roman Senators.
I will suspend th'Assault,
Till to these Terms, of which we will not bate
The smallest Part, your Senate may have Time
To send their latest Answer. Then we cut
All further Treaty off. Romans, farewel.
The End of the Third ACT.
| Coriolanus | |